That pointed look when the Bull showed Dorian their little detour was weird. Not weird that Dorian would give it, maybe, but it felt weird to get it. Maybe he's reading too much into it and Dorian's just not thrilled about going in there for his own sake, but no one's known enough about him to give him that kind of look at a time like this in a pretty long while.
It's alright. He'll keep it together a little better this time. There's someone in front of him to focus on as he lowers himself carefully to the ground, as he twists to fit his way through the gap and inside. Rubble and stone sitting crookedly against one another make the ceiling low for as far as Dorian's creepy spirit thing illuminates. Which isn't really that far, so hey, maybe they won't have to go too far before the space starts to open up. You never know.
Dorian being in front of him helps. He wishes he could say, even to himself, that it's just because being behind Dorian is such a nice view, but it just does him good. Reminds him he's not still stuck in the same place he fell off that cliff into, in that weird, indefinite stretch of time after Dorian left, dragging himself along in a space a lot like this and feeling his focus, his reality, starting to go a little loose.
There's someone else in here, and that helps him keep his sense of direction, his sense of time. That's one thing he learned in that weird, in-between period after Seheron: once those things start to come loose in your head, that's when you've really lost it.
It isn't that bad. There's some good reasons it isn't that bad and, after the worst of that smell has passed - the heavy footsteps getting closer and then right outside, the growls and grumbles and whatever passes for darkspawn talking to each other, the sound of heavy armour, one smacking something hard against the wall right next to their heads and the Bull's too deep, too regular breathing sounding louder in his ears than it might actually be, the pain a hot, welcome thing inside him, a distraction - after the worst of that has passed, after the smell has started to fade, then the Bull can share with Dorian what exactly isn't that bad about it, about being crowded inside here.
"Might be better staying in here 'till we hit a dead end," he mutters once it's safe to, in a voice that would have sounded normal back before anybody called him the Iron Bull. His voice could weigh heavy more often back then, come out curt and to the point. At least, when he was talking to the ones who called him Hissrad. The others needed someone friendlier.
His voice is some kind of normal, anyway. So that's fine.
"If we can pass that hallway out there and find some of the bigger rooms again we'll be better off. Fight out there would have been more close-quarters than your last one. Too close. Even if I could still fight between you and them."
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It's alright. He'll keep it together a little better this time. There's someone in front of him to focus on as he lowers himself carefully to the ground, as he twists to fit his way through the gap and inside. Rubble and stone sitting crookedly against one another make the ceiling low for as far as Dorian's creepy spirit thing illuminates. Which isn't really that far, so hey, maybe they won't have to go too far before the space starts to open up. You never know.
Dorian being in front of him helps. He wishes he could say, even to himself, that it's just because being behind Dorian is such a nice view, but it just does him good. Reminds him he's not still stuck in the same place he fell off that cliff into, in that weird, indefinite stretch of time after Dorian left, dragging himself along in a space a lot like this and feeling his focus, his reality, starting to go a little loose.
There's someone else in here, and that helps him keep his sense of direction, his sense of time. That's one thing he learned in that weird, in-between period after Seheron: once those things start to come loose in your head, that's when you've really lost it.
It isn't that bad. There's some good reasons it isn't that bad and, after the worst of that smell has passed - the heavy footsteps getting closer and then right outside, the growls and grumbles and whatever passes for darkspawn talking to each other, the sound of heavy armour, one smacking something hard against the wall right next to their heads and the Bull's too deep, too regular breathing sounding louder in his ears than it might actually be, the pain a hot, welcome thing inside him, a distraction - after the worst of that has passed, after the smell has started to fade, then the Bull can share with Dorian what exactly isn't that bad about it, about being crowded inside here.
"Might be better staying in here 'till we hit a dead end," he mutters once it's safe to, in a voice that would have sounded normal back before anybody called him the Iron Bull. His voice could weigh heavy more often back then, come out curt and to the point. At least, when he was talking to the ones who called him Hissrad. The others needed someone friendlier.
His voice is some kind of normal, anyway. So that's fine.
"If we can pass that hallway out there and find some of the bigger rooms again we'll be better off. Fight out there would have been more close-quarters than your last one. Too close. Even if I could still fight between you and them."